Spaces In-Between
by gloriousanon
Summary: AU of sorts; after Thor: The Dark World. Not meant to be a sprawling, epic tale. Just the story of a girl with a peculiar talent and how her life becomes entangled with the Avengers and the Odinsons. Rating for all eventual language, explicitness, violence, dubious consent/rape, and plain ol' adult themes. If you like OC, this is for you. If not, move along.
1. Chapter 1

**Spaces In-Between**

A/N: I never know whether to put AU in the summary or not; technically speaking, most fanfiction is AU, isn't it? Not meant to be a sprawling, epic tale. Just the story of a girl with a peculiar talent and how her life becomes entangled with the Avengers and the Odinsons. Rating for all eventual language, explicitness, violence, dubious consent/rape, and plain ol' adult themes. If you like some OC, great. If not, this won't be for you.

I had already written this story before and taken it down. I'd like to try again; same basic plot, but completely rewritten and the story cleaned up a bit. I ended up hating certain directions I'd taken and would like to start anew, as I still like the idea. So. let's try again, shall we?

* * *

Clouds loomed overhead as if to choke the city of any starlight; even the moon struggled in its murky depths. The overcast sky glowed a nuclear yellow-orange as it absorbed the lights of the gaudy buildings beneath it. Traffic clogged and unclogged the streets like clockwork. Droves of people milled around, splitting like the ocean before me as I walked among them. The night felt biblical, epic somehow, standing on the precipice of something interesting and strange. I hiked my backpack up and studied the buildings along my stroll. I paid special attention to the ones sporting the most darkened windows - although, at this hour, a dark window could mean a vacant room _or_ a sleeping tenant. My heart sank. The odds were too risky. It was stupid to have waited until nightfall. Foolish.

I eyed empty park benches with dismay. It wasn't often that I had to utilize them, but if I had no choice...

I trained my eyes ahead of me. A benefit of being alone and homeless was that I didn't live by a timeline. I could be anywhere, any time I wished. It may have been night, but the night was young. There were plenty of empty homes in New York City, and I would find one.

My fingers wiggled restlessly as I scanned. I continued on like this for what seemed like a long while - walking, slowing, scanning, studying windows and curtains for movement, debating. I finally settled on chancing another shot with one of my preferred locations: a large apartment building which came with furnished rooms. _Empty_ furnished rooms. I tried to keep my stays here at random intervals, and only ever for one night at a time. It was silly of me to keep coming back in the first place, but reliable was reliable, and an overstuffed couch was worlds better than a bench. At some point, somebody would notice my presence. They always did. And I always moved on.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and tried to remember which room I had stayed in the last time. I guessed and kept my eyes on the window as I moved closer to the building. The good thing about New Yorkers was that nobody gave a shit about you - they kept their eyes focused on a destination and pushed past you without really seeing you. I'd done this quite a few times in the middle of crowds, in broad daylight, and as long as you were tucked inside of a big city you could count on everyone being inside of their own heads. I retreated into my own as I neared the edge of the sidewalk closest to the building.

I closed my eyes and imagined the room. I saw the shadows cast by the furniture. I could almost smell the stale air inside. My skin rippled with goosebumps as I focused, gathering myself -

"_Watch it, bitch._"

I cried out as hands shoved me backward, windmilling my arms to retrieve my balance. It was failing, and I stumbled back. Somebody elbowed my ribs as they shared the others' sentiment - to get the fuck out of their way.

I had a moment to wonder what in the _hell_ was up everyone's asses before my feet slipped off the curb into the street. An explosion in my hip sent me in a different direction than I'd expected to go, and there was a horrible screeching. My skull cracked against the pavement. It was enough for an impressive light show behind the eyelids. I choked on empty lungs, air having been expelled around the same time my head thumped the street. My fingers clawed above my ribs as I willed the air back into me. _It's okay. I'm alive. _I blinked up at the dirty sky, glanced stupidly at some of the faces watching me. Not too many faces - New York, remember. Too busy for this tame of an accident. It hurt to breathe. My vision went blurry and grey around the edges - darker than grey. _Fuck_.

"Jesus - Is she -?"

"Nah, she's alive. What the hell? This is _my_ car, Barton, I _knew_ I shouldn't have let you drive - no better than a fucking _teenager_, I swear."

"She _jumped out_ at me, dickweed! Anyway, shut up. Not the time."

"Yes, wow, how convenient for you. _Not the time_. Cut me a fucking break. Stick to a perch, you goddamned pigeon."

I turned toward the bickering voices; two men had exited the car - a very nice, very expensive looking car - and were a lot closer to me than my ears let on. Terrible, white-hot pain flared in my hip as I made to sit up. It radiated through, down my thigh, churning my stomach. A sound left my throat as I attempted to keep still. My vision darkened dangerously and I fought to stay awake. I tried to make words and they dribbled from my mouth like so much whispered nonsense. I focused on a park not too far away, a bench, the grass, the idea of lying on it -

\- every cell in my body lit up and tingled through, vibrating and shifting. I wasn't in the street anymore. My mind made a valiant effort to keep pushing through the space. I was stuck in the inbetween, a limbo of matter, and the darkness that wasn't actually dark was cloying, hiding things, things that could survive in the nothing, so I _pushed and pushed_ -

\- I opened my eyes to the same street again. Sweat rolled down my forehead. My hairline was soaked, I could feel the air licking against me. I shuddered and made quiet sobbing sounds. I'd almost made it, but I _failed_, and now I had people _seeing _me do it, and the men were staring at me with bug-eyes. I touched my hip and hissed as it throbbed and jolted. It was just like I'd read in books - exhaustion crept through in the form of dark clouds, swallowing my vision and my consciousness.

...

"Hey. Girl. Hey."

My eyelids felt like they weighed a ton. When I made to speak, my mouth felt like it was lined in cotton. I made meaningless gestures with my hands and brought a hand to my forehead. My head was pounding.

"Hey, she's awake! That's it, come on."

"Jesus, Tony, back up. Give her time to come to on her own."

"Yeah, _Tony_," I slurred. "Please. Water." As an afterthought - "Who - where am I?"

My eyelids finally wrestled their way up and I saw three men: the two from the car and another man. One of them I vaguely recognized, but from where I couldn't pinpoint. He had his arms crossed over his chest and watched me with much interest. I decided right away that this must be "Tony". Why did that make sense?

"Welcome back to the living, sleeping beauty. For the record, I'm not the asshole that ran you over - _this _sorry motherfucker is." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the man beside him, a fit dishwater-blond in a loose muscle shirt. "That's Clint. Sue him."

Clint glared daggers at "Tony" and looked back to me. "I didn't _run you over_, you just kinda danced? Into the street? And I hit you?" He fidgeted as his face twisted into an uncomfortable expression. "I'm sorry?"

The third man came smoothly around the table and handed me a glass of water. I tried to sit up and he gently guided me back down. "No, not quite yet. You've got a little concussion. Nothing that taking it easy won't take care of, but sitting up might make it ache more. Drink." I eyed him and took his advice. I guzzled the water like I'd never had a drink before, clutching the cup with both hands.

"I'm Bruce. I'm taking care of your hip - can you tell us what happened?" He pushed a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"My hip?" It throbbed a painful rhythm, as if talking about it brought the pain back to life.

Bruce nodded. "You've got an intertrochanteric fracture. Luckily, it's the easier kind of fracture to take care of. You're in good hands. Now... wanna tell us what happened?"

I related the incident up until I was on the pavement. "And then I guess I passed out." Tony smirked and narrowed his eyes. It made me want to hit him and admire his good looks.

"You're skipping over a very important part of the story, kid," he pressed. "I believe there was a disappearing act?"

Bruce gave Tony a look, but said nothing and waited. I shrugged a little. "What do you mean?"

"Don't do that - you can't bullshit a bullshitter. Ever heard that one?"

"Yeah. You're a bullshitter, then?"

Tony cocked his head. "I've been known to tell a few whoppers in my time. This business calls for 'em once in a while."

"What business would that be?"

Tony's eyebrows furrowed and he clucked his tongue. "You're really busting my balls, aren't you? Are you telling me you don't know who I am?"

"Tony, _Jesus_..." Clint shook his head. "Running away from the point."

I started to squirm during the following silence and bright rays of pain radiated from my hip. "Can I have something? For the pain?" I gasped.

...

The room was bright and comfortable. Intricate machinery lined some of the walls. Translucent, floating screens. White and black and chrome, red and gold accents, a voice emanating from the tower itself. I felt silly and tired and fantastic. I'd told them the gist of what I could do - how do you explain something you aren't totally able to grasp? I focused on Bruce's hands. He had good hands, efficient, capable. I wanted him to touch my face. I wanted more of whatever he put into my bloodstream. I understood entirely how addiction could begin.

"What did you give her, man? Can I have some?" Tony asked. Bruce grinned.

Tony turned to me and snapped his fingers. "Over here, babe. You were describing your talent. You can travel between dimensions."

"_Not _dimensions," Bruce interjected. "You know that. Come on."

Tony scoffed, leveling his friend with a poisonous glare. "Yeah. Okay. You travel between... _spaces_. Worlds. Whatever, fuck. But how?"

"I don't know. It feels like... unraveling. And... no. It feels l'm pushing through some barrier, and there's a sort of tickley-torn-apart feeling, and then I'm put back together on the other side. But really fast. And not painful."

"That's pretty... um, far-fetched. Car accidents are pretty traumatizing for either party. Are we all sure we're not... fabricating things?" Bruce rubbed his neck and looked at the other two men. Clint launched into an angry diatribe in retaliation. I watched and smiled at the way he threw a tantrum at being called a liar. Through the comfortable haze, I focused on the fact that it didn't matter whether they believed me or not. I couldn't pinpoint _why_ I was telling them about t, anyway. Tony was watching me; I focused on everything and anything but him. His facial hair was very precise. I liked the way he smirked at everything. I wanted him to stop looking at me like a new toy and also wanted him to come over and talk to me. Tony Stark, I'd figured out, billionaire tech genius. Member of some elite crime-fighting outfit, along with the other two and then some. Everything made more sense once I'd realized who they were. The fancy digs, their interest in my ability, Tony having a goddamn medical floor in his tower -

" - tomorrow morning. I hope that sounds all right."

I blinked and focused on Bruce. "What?"

"We're going to perform the surgery tomorrow morning. There are certain things we need flown in, and we'll keep you sedated and comfortable through the night. Sound okay?"

"Sorry, yeah, sounds good. I feel really good."

"I know." He hooked a couple of wires up to me and smoothed a sheet near my legs. "Jarvis is going to keep his proverbial eye on you. If anything goes wrong or a reading is off, he'll know, and alert us immediately. If you need anything and we're not around, ask Jarvis and he'll grab one of us." I nodded and, looking satisfied, Bruce left with Clint in tow. Tony remained, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"You hungry?"

I hadn't thought about it until he mentioned it. _Good drugs. Very good._ "Starving."

"You like shawarma?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Spaces In-Between**

A/N: I never know whether to put AU in the summary or not; technically speaking, most fanfiction is AU, isn't it? Not meant to be a sprawling, epic tale. Just the story of a girl with a peculiar talent and how her life becomes entangled with the Avengers and the Odinsons. Rating for all eventual language, explicitness, violence, dubious consent/rape, and plain ol' adult themes. If you like some OC, great. If not, this won't be for you.

I had already written this story before and taken it down. I'd like to try again; same basic plot, but completely rewritten and the story cleaned up a bit. I ended up hating certain directions I'd taken and would like to start anew, as I still like the idea. So. let's try again, shall we?

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Tony Stark was a nervous, energetic creature.

For hours he regaled me with tales of himself - his intellect, his achievements, things that irritated him, kinks he wanted to work out in some of his inventions, the history of Jarvis, his hook-ups and relationships. I wasn't sure if he was truly trying to converse with me or use me as a human prop in his endless soliloquies - not to say I didn't enjoy it. He was entertaining and really funny and snarky. I talked a little but was mostly pleased to let him blab. His life was tragic and fascinating, or at least the way he related it was. We'd finished eating a long time ago, and I'd since had a little more painkiller when my hip began screaming.

"So, kid. I could undoubtedly talk for hours more about myself, but I'm really into your mysterious mode of transportation. Can you go anywhere?"

"Yeah. I guess. It works better if I know exactly where I'm going, but like... if I have an idea, I can still end up there." Tony narrowed his eyes and I laughed. "I mean, okay, here's an example: I have been to Central Park a million times. So I can navigate to certain parts of it because I know it by memory. But I've never been to... I don't know... Michigan. So, I could concentrate and guide myself to Michigan, but I'd end up somewhere random in the state. I don't know why it works like that, but it does."

He stroked his goatee and his brow smoothed out. "Interesting," he mumbled. "Can you go outside of Earth?"

"Yeah. I've done it a lot, like... to different realms, and stuff. Different worlds. Some worlds are still Earth, but I guess it's another reality or something. I've been to different places, though, just stuff that is entirely new and weird. Sometimes scary."

"How do you know which is the true Earth? Are you from this one?"

"Yeah. I just know." I nodded my chin toward the door. "Do you know your way around this room? Around the tower?"

"_Duh_."

"Well, how about around the city? Could you drive around and not have to focus too hard on where you're going, you just autopilot?"

He remained silent, leaning forward in his seat now. I like the way he looked so concentrated. I could hear the gears turning in his brain.

"So," I continued, "that's how. I just know. I've traveled enough to know my way back. It's a feeling, it just feels like home."

We sat in silence for several minutes, but not an uncomfortable one. I lay back and stared at the ceiling, resting my hands on my ribs. It felt so nice to be in a bed, albeit a hospital bed. I thanked the universe for putting me here, even for the night. I tried not to focus on what would happen to me after the surgery. They'd probably kick me out, after being sure I wouldn't sue them or leak anything to the press. I had no interest in doing so, but would the threat help me gain more of their care and resources? How could I come out with some advantage from this? Did I _want_ to take advantage of people who were being so needlessly nice to me?

"Stop thinking so hard. I can feel the strain from here." Tony leaned back and scrubbed his face with the heels of his palms. "So, ever been to Asgard? That's where Thor's from."

"I don't know," I admitted. "Doesn't sound... familiar? What's it like?"

"Never been there myself. The way I've heard Thor and Jane discuss it, I guess it's... pretty gorgeous? Shiny buildings, breathtaking sky, blah blah blah. Kind of medieval style, or at least the citizens seem to be. Like a city of fuckin' larpers, but... immortal."

"Thor's immortal?"

"Nah. Maybe. Probably not. Nobody's immortal." Tony stood up and squeezed my shoulder amiably. "Least, not til I figure it out first. Night, kid. You need some rest. You've got a big day tomorrow." He winked and sauntered out of the room.

I thought about Asgard, tried to picture what it was like. Tony didn't give the greatest description, but it sounded interesting. I listened to the not-totally-silent silence. Machines whirred and beeped softly. The prospect of trying to go to Asgard was too exciting to stop thinking about. My mind filled with possibilities, how it might look. What it would feel like. The pain of my hip was dulled, but still swimming underneath the cover of drugs. I couldn't walk. But a peek... just a small peek, there and back, just for a few moments.

"Um... Jarvis?"

"_Yes, Miss._"

"Ann is okay."

"_Of course._"

"If I... I'm going to leave for a little bit, so don't alert the men."

"_I wouldn't recommend -"_

"It'll be okay, I'll just be gone for a few minutes. I just need to check something out. Okay? Please?"

There was pause enough for me to contemplate the extent of Jarvis' programming, and where his programming ended and his own sort of awareness began. Speaking to him was like speaking to a human. "_I will allow ten minutes. If you aren't back, I will alert Master Stark and likely Master Banner_."

"Masters, huh?"

"_Master Stark prefers that I address him as such. He's got an interesting sense of humor_."

"I guess as long as you don't mind. If you... mind anything."

"_It doesn't bother me. Ten minutes, Ann._"

I concentrated on the idea of Asgard. There was a moment of gathering myself, like running fingers along cracks in a wall. I found it, instinctively pushing forward. There was a strangely pleasant feeling like being turned inside out. I swooned into the sensations as my very cells took themselves apart, vibrated, changed, and reemerged on the other side.

The pain was immediate. My hip screamed and ached; I bit my lip to stifle the sounds threatening to exit my throat.

"What have we here?"

I jerked my head in the direction of the voice and strong arms were grabbing mine, _dragging _me -

"No, _please_ -"

I shrieked and gasped as they dragged me. "_My hip, my HIP, PLEASE._" I repeated it over and over, a litany of my stupid pain, glassy and bright. Dots in my vision. My eyeballs felt hot. Finally they dropped me and I fought the urge to curl into a ball. My nose was running.

"Leave us. Now."

This voice was intimidating and regal, echoing off the walls of - of -

I swiped at my eyes and focused on my surroundings, hiccuping and crying with all the intensity of a child. I made no effort to turn toward the voice; from the sound of it, it was coming to me anyway. Everything was golden. It was extravagant and impersonal; somehow cold and warm at the same time. Footsteps echoed as they came nearer. His was a slow gait, whoever he was. Again I felt intimidated. My hip settled just enough to be tolerable. Pain was at the edge of everything.

I craned my neck back and looked up behind me. An older man dressed in armors and fine, vaguely-medieval clothing made his way down many steps. They led up beyond him to a gaudy golden throne. One of his eyes hid behind a plate. "Child," he boomed. "What brings you here?"

"I'm not sure where I am," I admitted.

"You lie to the Allfather." His tone was conversational, if not a touch insane.

"No, no! I don't! Allfather - so, that means you're Odin. Like from the stories."

He raised an eyebrow as he came closer. He looked - amused? Could that be right? He knelt over me, rocking cleverly on his heels. Even as he closed the distance between us that much more, he still loomed over me. Odin, the Allfather. Everything about him commanded respect. His eye glittered maliciously in its loneliness. Staring into it was hypnotizing - the green of it was unnatural and bright, seeking, knowing -

"Tell me, my dear, how you managed into my throne room."

"I have a... an interesting talent," I croaked. I wasn't sure what folks from Asgard were capable of, or how scientifically inclined they were. How was I supposed to explain this to him and not have him kill me? The possibility of my death weighed heavily on me, slinking from the recesses of my mind and clouding most other thought. I might die because I couldn't resist a stupid experiment, and nobody knew I was doing it. I wondered how much time had passed, if Jarvis was alerting anyone, what they could even do had he done so.

He twirled his fingers in a 'go on' gesture.

"I traveled here out of curiosity," I admitted. My heart pounded a nervous rhythm in my chest. "I didn't mean to get into this room, just - I was just trying to see Asgard."

"A stranger decides to arrive unannounced and uninvited into a god's chambers. One might say you have invaded Asgard." His eye twinkled as he smirked. Blue.

"Your eye," I said dumbly.

"Misdirecting me." He made a small sound of amusement. "You aren't very good at it."

"I would never... invade Asgard. Or anywhere." My mouth was going dry. "I'm one girl. Please. I can't even sit up right now. I can leave and I'll never come back, I swear on it."

He touched his mouth thoughtfully and seemed to consider. Each frantic beat of my heart echoed in my hip, rapid pulses of fire and sharpness. He smiled. "I am not such a malevolent god. I know you speak the truth." He laughed and added, "I will not execute you." I found it more relieving than hilarious.

"What is your name? You're a Midgardian, I'd take it."

"Anne. I'm from Earth." It was strange and silly to say so to a being that looked human. It felt like a game.

He dismissed this with a wave of his bejeweled hand. "One and the same. I find you interesting, Anne. Not many things interest me of late." He paused, tongue running over his bottom lip. "It would please me to learn more about you."

"I'm getting fixed up tomorrow, so I imagine it'll be a while until I can break into your house again. Recovery and all." I flinched as he broke into laughter again, this time loud enough to echo in the grand room.

"Your hip, that is. Tell me what happened."

I told him the abridged version. At the mentioned of Tony Stark, he seemed especially interested. "The Avengers are caring for you?"

"I mean - like, Tony and Bruce are, I guess."

I could sense something important happening, but couldn't figure out what. The look in his eye (had it been green? Did I imagine that?) only suggested things, and left me in the dark. I liked Odin. I was drawn to him.

"All right, then. I would offer you a deal, if you are agreeable." He paused to search my face for a sign, seemed to find one, and continued: "I will heal your injury right now, if you keep coming to keep an old man company. I would learn about you, your ability, show you Asgard. If you like."

"Yes." I allowed a nervous little laugh after answering so quickly and seeing his amusement. He looked pleased and smirked down at me. I ignored a tugging sensation in my gut. I wanted it all, I wanted the adventure. I wanted to know him.

"As my lady wishes. Now, this will hurt."

I let my head rest against the cool floor and watched him, fidgeting my fingers. "It will?"

"I use magic, but magic uses what's there - I'm manipulating your body. Your injury will heal itself, but you will feel it doing so, I'm afraid. It won't all be so bad."

"Wait -"

But he didn't. He placed a heavy hand over my hip and one, for leverage, I supposed, on the small of my belly. The pain was instant and breathtaking. I could feel the fracture lacing itself together, in a sense, traced in fire. There was a grating, horribly loud noise in my ears. It stopped when I took a breath, and I realized it was me screaming. I clutched at his arms, and they were immovable as solid rock. In the recesses of my mind, I wondered what might come of me shrieking expletives at the king of Asgard. In the current situation, it seemed appropriate and necessary.

"You will survive," he soothed. He made a funny gesture and the pain increased slightly. With it came a rush of heat. Muscles tightened and contracted and a wave of sensation caused my scream to choke and sputter into a whine. A dull throbbing commenced in its place, and another smaller wave crashed through my belly to between my thighs. My face had already flushed from the pain, but now it burned as I realized what happened. Odin was watching me, but gave nothing away to suggest he knew. The pain began to subside rapidly, and he petted me as it did. "It was not all bad, now, was it?" he said.

I shrugged and his smirk returned. "Good girl. You will be tender, and you will have a scar, but you will be able to wake tomorrow and perform any manner of physical activity."

"Thank you," I murmured, leaning up on my elbows. I wiggled my hips and sat up, amazed at his handiwork. I examined the scar, a vague L-shaped mark. It looked like something a deep cute could make, pink and raised. "I don't mind the scar," I added.

Odin's eye darkened. "Good."

"I'll come back. Tomorrow. Promise."

"Good," he repeated. He grinned and took my chin gently, tipping my face up to look straight at him. "I do hope so. If not, I could always find you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Spaces In-Between**

A/N: Sorry I don't update super quickly; full-time work, time set aside for working out, D&amp;D, time with husband, errands, et cetera, ad infinitum. I appreciate the followers and any reviews/comments. I apologize for any lazy mistakes (like Anne's name missing an 'e' in the beginning) in spelling in my last chapter (or any chapter, for that matter). I typed it up on a program that doesn't spell-check and then copy/pasted. Like an idiot. And I'm far too lazy to go make changes now. Rest assured, I'll be more careful from here on out.

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Days at the tower went by too quickly. I got used to Bruce and Tony's near constant presence, the advanced technology of the tower, and their super-powered friends visiting. Clint came often over the following week, asking about my progress and trying to make small talk. He was really funny and charming, but in their own way, all of the Avengers were. I was in the presence of greatness. I had trouble keeping my head on straight. Tony adored it.

What Tony didn't adore - nor Bruce - was my return that night. I blinked back into existence and scared the shit out of Bruce, who clutched his shirt and staggered back into a tray of medical supplies. Tools skittered across the tray and clattered to the floor. I couldn't stop the laugh bubbling up in my throat. As if on cue, Tony marched into the lab with a stern finger already pointing. The laugh died before it could really happen.

"I'm sorry," I blurted.

"What the hell!" Tony walked back and forth before the hospital bed, glaring at me with all the rage of a father (did he have children?). "I was gone for, what? Ten, fifteen minutes? A little longer? And Jarvis informs us that you've shimmered off into god-knows-where?" His hands flew and gesticulated, underlining his frustration.

"Where _did_ you go?" Bruce asked. His eyes were still wide, but he seemed more bewildered than anything else.

"To Asgard."

"You went to _Asgard_?" Tony looked like he could implode at any second. His lips were a line drawn from frustration and, according to his bloodshot eyes, perhaps alcohol or lack of sleep. A tiny part of me liked it, somebody suddenly caring about whether I was there or not. It was amusing to watch, but for the fact that I felt the same trepidation as a child does when getting scolded. "When we were talking about Asgard -"

"You talked to her about Asgard?" Bruce interrupted.

Tony shot him a look and continued as if Bruce hadn't said anything. "- I wasn't _suggesting_ you go, I was just _asking_ if you _had_. Jesus Christ! Especially while your hip is a-all..." He narrowed his eyes and pointed at me. "You're sitting up. You can't _sit up_. Bruce?"

"Yeah," he murmured, arms crossed. His eyebrows furrowed. He straightened his glasses. "You're sitting up, Anne."

I looked at my own hip, like we all needed this validation. "Oh. Yeah, Odin fixed it."

Tony barked a laugh. "The fucking Allfather just fixed your hip?" When I nodded, he looked to Bruce. So did I. Bruce raised his eyebrows and uncrossed his arms. "What?" He asked. "_What_?"

Not finding whatever answer he sought in Bruce, Tony looked back at me. "What'd you do, suck him off?"

"Tony," Bruce said sharply.

I laughed. I couldn't help but think of what happened when he'd healed me and I felt a flush climb up my neck. A side effect of the magic is all it had been. Probably. "No, of course I didn't." Tony's anger seemed to be melting away, turning into a sadistic kind of amusement. He watched me intensely, smirking. "I _didn't_," I repeated.

"You did," he breathed. "You went down on a god. Wow."

"Shut up Tony, I did _not_." Now my face was burning. "He asked me about how I got there, he was really nice. He fixed it. That's all."

"Can I have a look?" Bruce asked. He was bright with eagerness. I was happy to be his guinea pig and nodded my consent. I lay back on the bed for him and he lifted my shirt and hovered over my pants. "I'm going to have to... pull these down a little," he mumbled. I assured him this would be okay. The scar was bright against the rest of my skin, fresh and pink and raised. A sizable dark bruise haloed protectively around it. It was like somebody had (fairly recently) gored my hip. Bruce asked questions about how it occurred, why was there a scar. I explained the best I could, but I had no idea exactly how the magic worked. I assumed there must be some kind of give-and-take involved.

He brushed his fingers over the scar and I sucked in a breath. "Are you okay?" he asked, yanking his hand back. "Does it hurt?"

It didn't hurt. It felt like liquid heat. It pooled low in my belly, between my thighs, it made me quiver. When he removed his touch, it died down, but not entirely. It burned low, ignited and waiting. _Jesus_. I wondered idly if he could make me come just by stroking the scar. The thought made me want to clench my thighs together. "It doesn't hurt," I assured him. When he waited, I added, "It's just... sensitive."

He continued to ask me questions and probe at the wound, checking for pain and feeling around for whatever he was looking for. I felt guilty for enjoying his touch without his knowledge. It was difficult to sit still. I want to press against the mattress. I wanted him to cup me between my legs. I watched his mouth and focused on what he said, but every time his fingers moved I had to bite back a moan. What the hell did Odin do? Was he aware of the effects of magic on humans?

Jarvis spoke up. "Anne's heart rate is elevating."

Bruce looked at my face intently. "You're flushed and under obvious strain." His eyes slid away. "I shouldn't have pushed you. You didn't have to lie about the pain, Anne."

"I'm not, I promise. It's fine." I throbbed. He tapped one of my hands and I noticed that I'd been white-knuckling the blankets. My fingers trembled in his grip.

"Not in pain, huh." He peered disapprovingly over his glasses. I shied away from his gaze and mumbled my disagreement, which he ignored. He patted my hand and stood to gather his things. I waited for Bruce to gently scold me and bid Tony a good night before turning my sights on Tony. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and smiled nervously. "Did you want to check out my battle wound?"

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "Why?"

"I..." My mouth went dry as I shifted where I sat. I suppressed a shudder and shifted again, enjoying the needy throbbing it caused. It was embarrassing, and that added to the excitement. "It's just that..." _I want you to. I want _you_. __I want someone, anyone, any_thing_, to touch me. _Heat spread out underneath my skin like a wave. I felt it smoldering high on my cheekbones and in my chest. I gave up on using words and shrugged. Tony touched his lips and regarded me curiously.

After a beat of silence, he cocked his head. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were..." he smirked and huffed out a laugh. "I'd say you were aroused."

_I AM. I AM, PLEASE, PLEASE TOUCH ME._ "...Oh." I shifted once more and stifled a gasp. This was ridiculous. I fought a private war between enjoying it and wishing it would end. "That's weird."

"Yeah, I guess that _was _kinda weird to say. Look," he said, closing the distance between us, "I flipped out because I was worried. I'm - well, I'm sort of a high-stress individual, or whatever, and this has been a really intense several hours and I don't have too much room left for surprises."

I watched his hand grasp the ball of my shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, but all I could imagine was him sliding it down over my chest, caressing and plucking -

He removed his hand. "Sorry, should have asked before touching. I'm not creepy. I mean - I'm not _that_ creepy. Okay. Sorry about that. We need sleep. Don't disappear again, for god's sake. And don't tell anyone I said I was worried. I wasn't _that_ worried. Got it?"

I grinned coyly at him. "Right. I'm just an experiment. You don't care about my well being."

He pointed again and winked. "You're goddamned right."

* * *

"Ow."

Clint recoiled and watched me, concerned. Or perhaps not overly concerned, because he jabbed his finger right back into my wound. Though it pleasured me to a degree, it was a bruised and recovering wound, after all. Jabbing wasn't the same as touching nicely, and it had been _days. _Clint was fully fucking aware of it hurting.

"I said _ow_, you mean prick!" I slapped his hand and glared at him, shielding the scar from further abuse. "God. What is wrong with you?"

Clint shrugged and offered me a lopsided grin. "I don't know."

"Clint picking on you again?" Clint and I both craned our necks to see Natasha sashay into the room with two very tall and very blond men. They were _stacked_ with muscle. I vaguely recognized both of them; Thor and Captain America, though I couldn't say what the Captain's true name was. I was sure I was about to be introduced properly. Thor's hair tied back into a bun, and his shirt - a plain white tee - matched Cap's. Thor wore jeans whereas the Captain wore crisp tan slacks, creased down the center.

"I... yeah, he was. Kill him immediately." I looked back and forth between the men, who looked interested. Cap struggled against a smile and lost. Thor knit his brow and approached me.

"I am Thor Odinson. My father healed you, as I understand."

"You've got the jist of it, yeah," I agreed. Thor turned to Natasha. She cocked her head to look up at him.

"Jist - meaning, you've pretty much gotten the idea. You understand."

Thor turned back to me, smiling and shrugging. "I don't always understand your phrasing. May I look upon the wound?"

I shrugged and lay back, hiking my shirt up a bit and pulling my pants below my hip.

"Yes, good," Clint mumbled, leering comically. I clucked my tongue at him and he winked.

Thor looked at it and opened his mouth just to close it again. Color drained from his face before returning high on his cheekbones. "My father did this? Why?"

I laughed, but it was more of a humorless bark. "Yeah, because... he's nice? Because... I don't know, he just _did_, and I'm really grateful." I couldn't restrain my tone. Thor winced and took my hand. His grasp was surprisingly gentle for how large he was.

"My lady," he murmured, "forgive me. I didn't mean to offend - it reminds me of something my brother used to do. The shape of it... it's a disturbing coincidence."

I averted my gaze and shrugged again. "S'fine. Your brother was a healer before he -" _Before he went nuts and broke New York? _"- before he um... before?" I now had color in my face to match Thor's, and considered us even. His jaw tightened and he nodded. "Less of a healer and more of a general magic-user. He knew a lot of tricks." The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile. He didn't look like he was in the present anymore. I found myself stroking his fingers with my thumb, hoping he'd continue. He didn't disappoint.

"He played many tricks on me in our youth. He has - _had_ \- the ability to make doubles of himself, and was a notorious shape-shifter. I didn't usually condone his pranks, but I admit I enjoyed seeing some of the things he got away with. He used those same tricks to get me out of trouble a great deal of times. I loved him for that, and I wish I could tell him so now. As he got older, the maidens began to notice him, and he had a penchant for putting a magic brand on them, his initials, and it -" Thor caught himself mid-reverie and blinked himself out of it, withdrawing his hand. He managed a weak, apologetic smile and met my eyes. "Never mind that, I suppose that isn't appropriate. My father is not known for his healing, and healing can cause many marks. Its shape simply reminded me of Loki's cunning ways."

He returned his attention to the wound and Cap cleared his throat. "What did it do?" he asked.

Thor's fingers hovered over my wound as he looked to Cap. "What?"

"What did the, you know... mark, or whatever, what did Loki's mark do? On the women?"

"Yeah," Clint chimed in. "We're curious, man. Indulge us."

"Make that _all_ of us, whole gang's here, now, big guy." I jumped and glanced over to see Tony and Bruce standing in a doorway. Tony's arms were crossed. "I think we came in around the time you started talking about the maidens. I don't care what you said before that, I'm just interested in the weird god-sex stuff. Now spill."

Thor flushed a deep red and shook his head once. "I wouldn't relate something so crass before the females," he insisted. His eyes remained glued to my scar, but I was sure he wasn't really seeing it.

"Bullshit, we're all adults, here. There isn't usually a factoid I _don't_ know in my line of work. I want to know this one," Natasha responded. I liked her voice. I liked that she took no shit. Her arms were also crossed, hair pulled over one shoulder and gleaming in the light. How could I get my hair that shiny? Perhaps she should bathe me. I imagined her washing my hair. I'd have to kneel in front of her -

"He... the mark he made, it... he cast a special spell on the wearer of his mark. It caused them to go into heat when touched."

I looked at Tony, and he flicked his gaze over to me. I looked away immediately and cursed myself for having no tact whatsoever.

"That sounds rad," Clint mused. "Go into heat, like... they were just slobbering for dick, or...?"

Thor and Steve wore identical grimaces of distaste. "_No_, but they would be very easily aroused. The spells lasted as long as he wanted them to; sometimes hours, one time months. He was sort of..."

"Depraved?" Cap supplied.

Thor shrugged as if to say, _he was what he was_. My mind reeled. It was an insane coincidence. Loki was clearly dead, but maybe he got the idea from his father? Maybe this was something Thor hadn't been privy to? I didn't know how much magic Thor knew, but I was betting he didn't know much. When Thor asked again if he could examine it, I summoned the will power to gently deny him and made my way to the showers.

I had a lot of thinking to do...

And god help me, I desperately wanted to return to Asgard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Spaces In-Between**

A/N: Super grateful for reviews! Makes me just as happy reading them as I am nervous beforehand! Heh heh. Aallll right, enough small talk. We know you came for the goods.

And on that note, there ARE goods to be had in this chapter. TW for later when things get a little dub-con. Thee be warned - dub-con/noncon is going to be in the future as well. I will properly warn you before each chapter.

**Chapter Four**

* * *

I couldn't help but avoid the gang a bit after Thor's interesting background information. I processed the information in the huge shower attached to my shiny new room; it was the size of a small room itself, outfitted with ridiculous extras and enough tech goodies to boggle my mind. Temperature-sensitive tiles that changed color, multiple shower heads, touch screens for music or video, mid-level jets and sprays, dimmers and foggers - there were many things I couldn't even identify. I liked dimming and fogging the shower; It made me feel relaxed and mysterious. The tiles shimmered with oil-slick colors depending on where the water splattered.

I stroked the scar. The "L"-shaped scar that Odin gave me. The one that matched ones _Loki_ had given countless other women, which seemed to have matching effects on one's libido. When I touched it, there wasn't a response. So, it was only _others_ touching it, then. I stood in front of a jet and aimed my hip at it. This didn't do anything, either. I settled for grabbing a shower handle and splaying myself across the floor, aiming it between my legs and closing my eyes. Water pressure did wonders. I imagined hands, Bruce's, Tony's, Natasha's, _all _of their hands, the Avengers making it their mission to grab and caress and pinch. To _lick_. A pair of green eyes burned behind my eyelids, unbidden but not unwelcome. Odin's eyes, or what I _thought_ his eyes looked like before I knew better. I imagined Odin's hands, but quickly gave over to thoughts of Loki. He was dead now, but what could he do when he was alive? I'd seen photos and video footage. His long fingers, his straight teeth. All smirk and shadow and tongue. I pressed the back of my wrist over my mouth as I came, grinding back against the water pressure.

I finished up my shower and walked out determined. A walk-in closet held new belongings, more clothing than I'd ever owned in my life. Tony insisted on setting me up since I'd healed, and it shocked me how much money wasn't a denominator in anything he wanted. From what I could tell from our brief encounters, Steve shared my feelings.

I pulled on skinny jeans and a tee - if there were five words to describe the majority of my new wardrobe, those were it - and looked at myself in a mirror. My hair was still wet and uncombed, but I felt... _needy_. Too needy to worry about my hair. "Jarvis," I mumbled, "tell on me and I'll kill you." I didn't wait for his response. I closed my eyes and focused into Asgard, right back into the throne room again. It was the only place in Asgard I was the least bit familiar with, and the trip was quicker and easier for it.

The room was empty. I gave it a cursory glance and brought my focus to the throne. It glittered and gleamed at the top of the steps. I touched my mouth and raked my fingers through my hair. I felt self-conscious in its presence. Self-conscious and something else... a pull, maybe. Temptation. I walked slowly up the steps to approach the ridiculously lavish seat. I stroked one of the arms when I reached it, heart jumping out of my chest. I turned and lowered into it. It felt risky and powerful. I felt the risk thrumming through my veins, making my cheeks burn, tingling.

"People have been executed for far less, girl."

I jumped at the voice and stood immediately, spinning around to see Odin with his hands clasped behind his back. He smirked and tilted his head.

"I'm so sorry," I breathed.

He circled around and took his rightful place at the throne, waving my apology away like so much smoke. "Never mind that. You've returned... and in such a hurry, I see" he mused, smirking at my damp hair. "How is my girl's hip?"

_My girl_. I chewed on the inside of my lip and approached him. Being in this room, in this _realm_, was surreal. I felt dangerous and brave. Being here made me feel different. _Being here_,_ or being around him?_ I hesitated before him and he nodded very slightly, so I came close. I stood between his spread thighs, close enough to feel his body heat, and lifted my shirt. He took the liberty of slipping a finger into a belt loop and tugging my jeans down enough to look at the wound.

"Healed up very nicely, it looks like," he observed. "And is it still tender?"

He looked up at me and I opened my mouth to speak. "I-It, _uuhhhh_..." _It feels fine_ was what I meant to say. He dragged a finger slowly along the scar and waited for me to continue. "It's sensitive," I grit out. It took effort to keep standing straight. He licked his lips and I understood that he absolutely knew.

"Does my girl need a kiss? Will that make it feel better?" He smirked and stroked the scar with his knuckles, sending another jolt straight through my center. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to it. I gasped and whined involuntarily as he gave it an open-mouthed kiss. It felt so close to orgasm that I'm not sure it _wa__sn't_ one. All I knew was the small explosions of heat and pleasure between my legs and threading through my hip.

He lifted his lips and I noticed I was gripping his shoulders. After a beat he leaned back toward me. "So you taught this to Lo-_ooooki_," I groaned. His tongue dragged over the scar. My knees buckled, but he had an iron grip on my thighs. As soon as his deceased son's name left my lips (in a whine, no less) he leaned back. His eye was sharp and practically glowing. "What did you say?"

I struggled to regain my train of thought. "I mean - _god_, I'm sorry, I am such an _idiot_. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to offend you," I babbled.

Odin shook his head. "Tell me what you know of Loki."

So I did; I explained what I'd known of his brief stay in New York and that he'd died with honor in a battle with Thor. I touched on what Thor had told us, but squirmed away from specific details; who wanted to tell someone's father about their dead son's sex life? He remained silent through my awkward rambling. When I started to move away from him, he slid a hand behind my thigh, just barely under my ass, and kept me in place. The movement was so automatic and unabashed that I allowed it without question. I relished the feeling of his hand in such an oddly personal spot, grounding me, commanding me to be near him. And yet, I knew that I wasn't really _attracted_ to Odin, as it were... I was attracted to something _about_ him. The way he was. Something about him that seemed secret and exciting. I felt on the cusp on discovering what it was, all the time, even in my dreams (where he always had green eyes), but it was still out of my reach.

The conversation flowed from Loki to other things. Life around Asgard, what I was getting up to at the tower. I kept my guard up about specifics; I didn't want to share Tony and Bruce and the rest of them with Odin, just as I didn't exactly want to share Odin with _them_. I wanted both sides for myself and myself only, for me to hold up together and examine separately. I'd just gotten into all of these situations. I couldn't wholly trust anyone but myself. It had gotten me through life so far and would continue to until I saw fit to let somebody else in.

* * *

"How are you settling in?"

Bruce had me on an examination table again, which was a fairly regular thing now. Days had passed and many examinations had taken place, with and without the presence of the others. Today, everyone was in the room. The novelty of my wound and Odin's healing had passed, and most of them looked bored. Tony paced the room impatiently and Steve watched the examination. Thor watched as well, but with about half the focus. I still found it difficult to maintain my composure when he touched the scar.

"Great," I answered truthfully. "I'm waiting for you guys to get sick of me and give me the boot."

Tony snorted. "Yeah. _About_ that. You'll be waiting a while. You're my shiny new toy." I raised my eyebrows and noticed a few more sets rising in sync with mine. Tony rolled his eyes and huffed. "Not, like, my _toy_, Jesus Christ. My shiny new _experiment_, how's that?"

Clint's palm wavered in the air. "_Ehhh._ Not much better."

"Whatever. Could we hurry up with this thing? I wanna get moving to the club."

"It takes as long as it takes. It's also barely past noon," Bruce observed, eyes trained on the screens before him. He used some sort of scanner over my scar; it wasn't unlike having an ultrasound. Tony shrugged and slugged back the remainder of his scotch, setting the glass a bit too firmly back on a table. "Like I said, _barely past noon_," Bruce mumbled, glaring at the empty glass.

Later that night, everyone's spirit seemed to rise. I'd been put through endless observations and tests and medical checkups, endured so much prodding and poking of the scar that I thought I'd lose it every time. Now, tonight, we were going to some exclusive and expensive club with Tony to _let loose_. I was going to get thoroughly drunk, and the idea of bedding somebody wasn't _not_ on my mind.

The music was loud and throbbing. It was more of the generic, bassy, top-forties remix shit, but heavy bass sat well with me in my increasingly inebriated state. I danced with strangers and with just about every Avenger, though Thor and Bruce remained on the outskirts of the crowd. Thor seemed much more interested in throwing back drinks and chattering incessantly with Bruce. Bruce avoided the alcohol but seemed pleased to talk.

There was no feeling that tonight would be anything but light and enjoyable.

I didn't protest when Tony crashed into me from behind, wrapping an arm around my waist to keep me from toppling over. "Jesus!" I yelled.

"Call me Tony!" he laughed into my ear. His lips pressed against it sent a pleasurable tingle down my side. He brought his free hand around and held two long shotglasses between his outstretched fingers. I took one gratefully and we clinked them together before taking them down. I shouted my thanks and he flashed me a shit-eating grin.

He was a clever dancer. I giggled at the way he spun me and pulled me back to him in a dance that did _not_ go with the club music. His smile was unlike the one he wore at home - it was genuine and open where he was usually only smirking. Tony and his nightlife - go figure he was so happy. He turned me away from him and held me against his chest, hips swaying gently and with purpose. His hands found my hips and I jerked back from the contact. He took it as incentive to grind against me. The fingers of his right hand worked into my jeans. The scar. _Fuck_. He found what he was looking for and stroked.

It was a club like any other club - loud, hot, and dim. I was grateful for the cover; my face burned and I gasped at each stroke. After what could have been minutes or eternities, I was devastatingly close to orgasm. I took a deep breath and pushed away from his body, facing him. He was smirking now.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against my ear. "Problem?"

"No," I lied. He grabbed my hips again, pressing his thumb to the scar. All subtlety ran right out the door. He slipped a knee between my thighs, rocking his hips so that it pressed up between my legs. He paired the stroking and rocking together in a gentle and maddening rhythm. I clutched his shoulders and stared past his head, unseeing. Again I felt his lips against my ear and I shuddered and moaned. I heard his breath catch and he laughed. "It's true, what Thor said. Looks like the old man had a few tricks to pass down."

"No, it just - it - hu-_uuuurts, ahh_..." he dragged a fingertip along the ridge of it, nipping at my neck. His breathing came in quick huffs against my ear. I held on like I was drowning.

"Hurts, huh. How many times has Banner been rubbing it? How many times have you come on my examination table?"

"Never," I answered honestly. "The shower, on the other hand..."

He growled and untangled out bodies, eyes dark and half-lidded. He rested a hand at the junction of my throat and shoulder. I licked my lips and his eyes tracked the movement of my tongue. The grin returned. "I'll get us another drink!" He winked and turned back toward the bar. I turned away from him and wiped my hands down my face, catching my breath. I couldn't do much to soothe the throbbing, but a few minutes would help. I felt soaked.

I looked around the crowd and smiled at anyone who caught my eye. They smiled back. I knocked shoulders with these strangers and danced on a few others as I sank through the throng, mindless of where I was heading. This was the moment I saw him, a man at the edge of the crowd toward the back. He had long, dark hair, and high cheekbones. Loki. I stared at him and he dropped a slow wink. I looked back toward the bar and saw a couple of the Avengers schmoozing, but when I looked back for Loki, he was gone.

Tony crashed into me again. For all the clumsiness of a drunk Tony, he _never_ spilled a drink. Ever. "What's wrong, kid? Look like you've seen a ghost."

This phrase was used a lot in films, right after the character had, in fact, seen a ghost. Or something like it. I fought the surreality of the moment and shook my head. I grabbed the little glass from him and knocked it back. He smiled appreciatively and toasted me with his. "A woman after my own heart," he yelled. In no time, he was pressed against me again, fingers touching and teasing. My body _burned_ and throbbed under his ministrations. I leaned up and dragged my tongue along his throat. He made a small sound by my ear, something between a gasp and a moan, and his grip on my hips tightened uncomfortably. "You shouldn't do that," he mumbled into my ear. His voice was deep. "Shouldn't tempt me."

I bit his neck then. Not too hard. Hard _enough._ He sucked in a sharp breath and pulled his head away, gripping my face, thumb and fingers digging into the hollow beneath my cheekbones. His eyes darted back and forth between mine and rested on my mouth. I licked my top lip and he squeezed his eyes shut, making an effort to loosen his grip on my face and lower his hand. It rested instead at my throat, which I found equally if not more exciting. I pressed my lips to his ear.

"You want to experiment on me. So do it." I pulled away to watch his expression. He looked dangerous and feral. My skin buzzed and my very nerves vibrated with need. "You got a special, swanky, douchebag VIP room here?" I shouted.

He cracked a smile and nodded. I looked around. "Where?" He gestured up at the ceiling; _upstairs_. I pulled him close to me and closed my eyes.

In a matter of seconds, we ceased from existing in the club and began existing in his VIP room. It was as awful and corny as I'd assumed it would be. His eye bulged out of his head. "Fuck!" he exclaimed. The music was a little more muted in here, but bass still vibrated in the walls. "Holy _fuck_! You just transported us here!"

I nodded with little interest, taking inventory of the room. It was drenched in stereotypical rich-boy sex-romp furnishings - lots of black, red and chrome, leather and velvet and silk, minimalistic. I lifted an eyebrow and he laughed, spreading his arms to the room. "Yes, I agree. Some good times in here, though."

I watched him as he moved closer, settling back to his purpose. His face was flushed and in the relative quietness of the room, I could sense more acutely how drunk we were. I felt giddy and charged up. He took my shoulders and shoved me playfully back into a leather couch. I giggled as I landed and allowed my head to loll back. He got to his knees before me and I brought my attention to him. He leaned up over my body and I let him kiss me. He tasted like scotch and desperation. It thrilled me. I moaned into his mouth and he grabbed my throat again, smearing his lips along my jawline, licking and sucking down my throat. His hand found my scar once again and caressed. I pressed my hips forward and ground against him, the bulge in his slacks. He pushed me back again and removed my pants. "God," he breathed. He swiped a finger up the crotch of my underwear. "You're so wet."

I keened and gripped the leather cushion until my knuckles turned white. "I'm sorry," I said automatically. I blushed as I realized how stupid that was - apologizing for being so aroused, yeah, _so sorry about that._ He resumed kissing and licking my neck and ground himself between my thighs. "I'm going to get your pants wet," I murmured. He groaned and bit down.

The sensations were coming to a head quickly. "I'm going to cum," I moaned. "I'm _ so close_."

He pulled away from me and pulled my underwear off. He spread me open and I trembled as he ran his fingers along the folds and peaks. He slid two fingers in and pumped them efficiently against the right spot, _twice_, only to pull them out. I cried out and bucked my hips at him, pleading for him to continue. He knelt before me and leaned over to my hip. He licked the scar. I made sounds I didn't know I could make. His fingers returned and filled me, pressing insistently against that spot. His tongue on my hip and his fingers took me straight to the brink, and I wavered before it a moaning, gasping mess.

In my mind's eye, I saw Loki. I saw him in the club, winking. I saw him in the footage I'd watched. I imagined him in Odin's throne room, on the throne - _no_, with _me_ on the throne, him kneeling before me. I imagined those long fingers. His mean smirk as he dragged climax after climax from me. I focused on it so hard that for a moment, I felt I was _in_ the throne room, and there he was, _Loki_. He stared wide-eyed up at me in the throne, legs spread and lips parted. I closed my eyes and shook my head and that weird, flighty feeling was lost. I was in the VIP room and Tony was working me over the edge. I came hard enough to scream, but after the initial gasp, my body arched up and locked in a long, tensed, tortured pose. Finally pleasure cascaded up from my belly and I crumpled before him.

He was panting and watched me twitch with the after effects. He rubbed my thighs and waited patiently for me to calm down. I swiped a hand through my hair and laughed. "Thanks," I breathed. I nudged his obvious bulge with my foot and gazed at him with what I hoped was a sultry, fuck-me stare. "How would you like me?"

The stare must have worked - he appeared to short-circuit, a strained moan escaping his open mouth. He glanced at his fingers and brought them to his lips. He sucked them with half-lidded eyes and smirked up at me. I shifted and felt my own smile falter. He looked... dangerous. He grabbed my thighs and spread them further apart, to the point of discomfort. I made a small sound of protest and he rubbed and poked at my cunt. "Hey," I whimpered. Pathetic. "Little sensitive right now."

"Come on," he responded. His tone changed; his whole demeanor had changed. He leaned forward and dragged the flat of his tongue up my slit. I shuddered and tried to squirm away, but his hands had an iron grip. "I know you can come again. Be a good girl and let me make you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Spaces In-Between**

A/N: The non-con/dub-con deepens. The plot thickens. Tony's jeans are straining. So, on that note, I guess we should continue.

**Chapter Four**

* * *

I stared into Tony's eyes, blown and spidered with red veins. His lips were parted, but I could find his smirk in there yet. "No," I said. My voice sounded far away. In the wake of my first orgasm, my drunkenness came back with a vengeance. I wasn't feeling sick, but... I felt heavy and unreal. Slow. "No, I... can't. I'm too sensitive," I repeated. He bit his lip and leaned forward to lick another slow stripe up between my legs. I tried to jerk my hips back and was reminded of Tony's painful grip on my thighs. I was going nowhere. "Tony." My voice sounded small.

He shuddered and I heard - and felt - a growl vibrate in his chest. It sent a small, sweet thrill down into my belly and I bucked gently beneath his borderline painful hold. He grinned, encouraged, and went to work with fervor. I made sounds that embarrassed me, whining and keening and twisting beneath his mouth, and I watched him press the heel of his palm against the prominent bulge in his jeans. He took that hand and used his thumb to stroke my scar. _That fucking scar_. Without a shred of surprise, I felt the heat in my cunt explode and I threw my head back, gritting my teeth. The hand not stroking me slipped two fingers easily inside, curling and thrusting. Every muscle in my body seemed to tighten up before a glorious and complete melting. I nearly screamed after I retrieved a ragged breath. Tony's name found itself between many obscenities and wordless noises grating against my throat.

I caught my breath again as Tony withdrew his fingers and tongue. When he stood, I slumped in the tacky seat I was in and lay there, exposed and sopping and absolutely defeated. He palmed his erection once more as he stood before me. "Well, kid," he sighed. "Let's get you dressed up and get back down there. I'm not sure how long we've been up here." I pressed my legs together shyly and scrambled to pull my clothes back on. My face flamed with embarrassment. And alcohol... and arousal. He tipped my chin up and leaned in to kiss me, but only licked my lip. I shuddered and he grinned.

He led me back down to the club and slipped back into the group. If anyone took any interest in our whereabouts, they didn't let on, and the night started to die out. We took our leave and chattered softly in a comfortable, drunken heap on the way back home.

As I drifted off to sleep later that night, Tony startled me awake with his presence. I felt him before I heard him and rolled off the bed. I got ready to transport myself to another location before he pulled me out of my half-awake, half-drunken panic. "Hey-! Kid, relax, it's just me. Hey!" I heard his footsteps rush to the side of my bed and I peered over the mattress at him.

"Stop calling me 'kid'. And what's up, it's like... um..."

"Five in the morning?"

"Yeah. Fuck." I crawled back over the mattress and sighed. My head was swimming. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know where you took us earlier."

"What? The VIP room?" I cracked an eye open at Tony. "Did you like, black out or something? Because we - we did some things."

He winked and licked his teeth. "Nah, _kid_, I remember those things. In fact, it was _during_ those things. You took us somewhere for a minute, but I was too busy to look around. Felt it, though."

"Took us somewhere? I didn't -"

_Wait_. I ran back through the time we spent and remembered imagining being in Asgard, on the throne. I could have accidentally taken us there - it had felt realistic, all right - but for Loki. Loki was there. Loki was _dead_.

Tony interrupted my reverie loudly enough to make me jump. "There! Yes! Where was it?"

"Nowhere. Go to sleep." I rolled over and groaned when he jumped into bed beside me.

"Come _oonnn_, where? Where? Come on, babe, _come on!_"

I made a disgusted sound and made a poor attempt to wriggle away from him before he wrapped his arms around me. "_God! _I took you to fucking Asgard for a second on accident! Okay? Asgard! _Go to sleep!_"

"Did anyone see us?"

Loki's wide eyes watched me behind my eyelids, his face a perfect mask of shock.

"No. Sorry. Next time I'll wait til Odin is there."

Tony gave my ass a swat and rolled out of bed, laughing. "Good girl."

As I slept, pairs of green eyes haunted my dreams.

* * *

At some point the next morning, I worked slowly toward waking when I felt weight depress the mattress beside me. I groaned and swung an arm around to swat at the culprit. "It's like you _never_ leave. _What_ do you -"

I turned to glare blearily in Tony's direction and saw Bruce instead. I pulled my arm back and he smiled, eyebrows raised. "I thought you were Tony," I mumbled, rolling over to face him.

He huffed a little laugh and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I figured as much. Thought I'd come in and get you up. We're going to do a lot of tests today."

"More tests? I've been poked, prodded and pricked a million times," I whined.

"Yeah, but we haven't monitored your... talent. And some of us are wondering if it's real."

I sat up. "Okay." I studied his ever-patient, guarded, handsome face and couldn't find anything hinting at his thought process. "Some of us? Because Clint and Tony -"

"Claim they saw, yeah. After a car accident, in which they hit you. Stress and panic and shock can do a lot to the human brain, Anne."

I clenched my jaw and nodded. Of course he wasn't going to believe it right off the bat - he was a scientific man, and even among his super-friends, would be a natural skeptic. Yes, of course, okay.

"Can I sit on your lap?"

Bruce's eyebrows shot up and I stifled a laugh. "What?"

I repeated myself and his eyebrows remained at full mast. I slithered across the mattress and poured myself into his lap, wrapping his stiff and awkward arms around me. "Relax," I mumbled, "and close your eyes."

I waited until he did what I told him and linked my arms around his neck. In seconds, we shimmered between layers of existence and appeared in the lab, where, like I'd guessed, everyone was waiting. Bruce's eyes popped open and he looked around, the slightest tremor in his arms. "Fuck," he breathed. "Okay."

"Takes a bit to make the good doc curse," Natasha observed, eyebrow cocked.

"Do we all get a ride?" Tony smirked.

Clint clucked his tongue and held a hand out to me, lifting me gingerly from Bruce's lap. "Only if I get to sit in _her_ lap. Otherwise, no dice."

I went through the motions of performing my ability several times, enough times to lose count. I was observed, hooked up, and measured. I went by myself and took others with me. Everyone got a "turn". By the time I'd done enough to satisfy Bruce for a day, I was exhausted. I took a long, scalding shower and wandered the tower, ending eventually on a balcony. The city bustled and milled about below me. My thoughts brought me right back to Loki.

I struggled with the impossibility of the other night - I saw Loki; Loki wasn't around to see. I was scared that I had really brought us to Asgard by accident in the midst of my distraction, but I was purposely fantasizing about Loki, so I figured I was just having a vivid daydream. But Tony felt us go there. Perhaps he'd been so drunk he had imagined it?

Coincidence? Maybe?

I turned back into the tower and headed for an empty room. I called up Jarvis and his polite, pleasant voice surrounded me from hidden speakers. I asked for footage of Loki and watched.


End file.
